


New Morning

by OtterMcKilbourne (p_3a)



Series: NaNoWriMo 2015 [5]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Multi, Swearing, rape mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:09:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5132132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_3a/pseuds/OtterMcKilbourne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varian Wrynn spends the morning preparing for his first meeting with his betrothed, Tiffin Ellerian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

This was just the most fucking awful thing Varian had ever had to do, and he hated everyone who was even slightly involved.

Both of his huge hands braced against the dressing table, he took a deep breath. He knew this was his duty. He knew he had to do this. He had to do it for-- Light, _everyone_. Everyone was counting on him for this! He had to go and marry this-- _girl_ , whoever the fuck she thought she was, and make lots of fucking babies with her and live happily ever after so everyone in Stormwind could have something resembling _normal_ again. That was what everyone wanted. _Everyone_. Hell, even _he_ wanted it, on some level. He wanted things to be normal. He wanted to make people proud.

He looked at himself in the mirror. He should have been ready for his day by this hour, but he was still in his pyjamas. His face was red and swollen, his eyes bloodshot, his cheeks covered in that awful _gravel_ called stubble, and his hair was a fucking mess. He’d been growing it out - now he was 18, and a King at that, he was no longer bound by the fashion for an underage Prince to keep it above shoulder height - and right now, that just meant it looked like a fucking mess. As much of a fucking mess as the rest of him.

He wanted to make people proud. But he didn’t… he didn’t want to leave Arty behind to have to do that.

Light… Arthas Menethil. It was silly, really. Arty was still a little kid in a lot of ways - he was a good few years younger than Varian, and there were lots of differences between them. Varian wasn’t in love with him or anything. But it wasn’t quite like he was a brother, either. Really, Varian didn’t know _what_ to make of him. But he knew one thing, and that was the tears in Arthas’ eyes when he’d explained he had to go back home and marry some girl he’d never met. Make fucking babies with her. Light, the thought made _Varian_ feel sick; he didn’t know how it must have made _Arthas_ feel.

“Lucky you, Arty,” Varian breathed into the mirror. “Too young to deal with this shit.”

He let out a harsh breath and dropped his head so his gaze fell again, not on his reflection, but on the little piece of paper he’d been given a few weeks ago now with more information about this girl. Varian squinted at the tiny fucking cursive handwriting on the page for the ten thousandth time. Her name was Tiffin Ellerian, she was from Westfall, and there was a rough portrait of her clipped to the paper. She had blonde hair and freckles. Varian would’ve taken that as an insulting imitation of the person he _really_ wanted to be spending time with right now, if he didn’t know this betrothal had been made years before he’d ever even met Arthas.

Because that was the other thing, really. This betrothal was one of the last gifts he had left from his parents. Varian didn’t cry every time he thought about them, any more, but that thought had brought tears to his eyes more times in the trip back from Lordaeron than he’d cared to remember. Everything else had burned, or been lost, or used up, and this was one of the last things. Something his parents had chosen for him, together, and something they’d hoped he’d like.

He felt like he _had_ to like it, given that. He didn’t have a whole lot else left to rely on from them, and they’d been so… hopeful.

But he didn’t know this girl. And he didn’t know if he _wanted_ to.

The tiny little writing on the tiny little fucking piece of paper didn’t tell him anything about what she was like. Was she nice; was she mean? Did she know how to use a sword? Had she ever fought an orc before? Was she just a farm boss’ daughter who didn’t know the first thing about combat? Did she tell good jokes? Would she force him to have sex with her?

For the millionth _fucking_ time, Varian looked up at himself in the mirror, and noticed he was crying again. He ran his hands through his hair and tugged at it, trying to calm himself. This was fucking daft. He was eighteen, now. He’d been made a King last week. And he was going to get married soon. He was an adult. He couldn’t be crying like a little kid any more.

But he was. He wanted his mum, and his dad. He wanted Sir Lothar. He wanted Arthas. And most of all, he didn’t want to marry this… this _girl_.

Giving up, he trudged over to the door and informed Wyll to delay his breakfast by yet another hour. He knew he was late for his meetings already, but right now, he didn’t care. He just needed a little more time.


	2. Renewed Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varian starts to adjust to his new life back in Stormwind.

In the end, it hadn’t gone all that badly.

Varian rubbed at his cheeks and stared at his blank face in the mirror. He didn’t look that bad, today. Still needed to scrub the rest of yesterday’s makeup off his face and apply it afresh, but he could theoretically at least go to breakfast looking like this. Even if public appearances were probably still off the books.

Tiffin and he hadn’t exactly hit it off immediately, it had to be said. At least partially because Varian found himself making faux pas after faux pas, brushing her off and insulting her without even really meaning to - even if asked, he couldn’t think how to explain his behaviour afterwards. And understandably, she’d been unimpressed. Every time he’d tried to apologise, she’d either been so rude back that he’d found himself lapsing back into his old ways, or she’d simply brushed him off. Also understandable, but… frustrating.

But lately… there’d been far less of that. They’d started to settle in. They’d eaten dinner together just yesterday, and they hadn’t argued once. They came close, sure - it had almost roused Varian to anger, Tiffin’s snide mention of the fact her family and their friends in the House of Nobles were helping more than the Crown were to deal with the growing homeless problem in Westfall - but they hadn’t _actually_ shouted. And no one had stormed off. Tiffin had even kissed his cheek before she went to bed.

He blushed to think of it. Was he… actually starting to like her?

A pang of guilt took his chest, and he stared at his hands on the dresser for a moment. He knew he was breaking his promise to Arthas. He’d promised he wouldn’t leave him behind, and yet… here he was, miles away in a foreign kingdom, courting this girl when he should have been writing letters back home. But at the same time, this was his royal duty. He had to have an heir, and making friends with Tiffin… marrying her… was all part of that. Surely Arthas would understand..?

He had to. He swallowed and started getting dressed the rest of the way. Arthas had similar duties to his own kingdom, and surely if he was a true friend, he wouldn’t want Varian to be miserable for the rest of his life? He still hoped he’d get time to visit Arthas, for for Arthas to visit him; he wasn’t eighteen yet, after all, and his father was still alive. That meant he was far more likely to get time off from his royal duties than Varian was.

He hoped, idly, that Arthas could attend the wedding. It was happening in under a month, now, and Arthas still hadn’t replied from the invitation - but he was just busy, Varian was sure. Where previously Varian had looked upon the occasion with dread, now he thought of it with a curiosity that bordered on excitement. Maybe it’d even be fun; Tiffin seemed to have a sense of humour, now he’d actually spent time with her.

But then there was the question of… the wedding night. He was still nervous about that. He’d never had sex before, much less with a girl, and he was sure he wouldn’t be very good at it. No one was very good at anything the first time they did it. But maybe… maybe Tiffin _wouldn’t_ make fun of him. Maybe they could figure it out together. That would be okay.

A rap on the door interrupted his reverie, and Tiffin’s mischievous voice followed it: “C’mon, you, we’re going to be late for our meetings if we don’t get to breakfast soon.”  
“Haha, yeah. I’ll be out in a minute.”  
“Hurry up!”  
“Yeah, yeah! I’m doing it!”

He laughed as he pulled his trousers on the rest of the way, and fastened up his overcoat. It had been a long journey, but… they were going to be alright.


End file.
